There's no place like home
by sorafallenangel11
Summary: It's always a tough time going off to University and getting absorbed in a good book is always a good escape. She didn't mean it literally. Addie is going to be facing hard times and fun times as she figures out how - or even if - she's going to get home. As the story continues, she faces a difficult decision - how much should she interfere? AU / OC / OOC
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys. This is my latest fanfiction. I've been reading loads of self-inserts or characters travelling into the books type stories lately and wanted to try my hand at it. Hope you enjoy. Please review and tell me what you think.**

* * *

Chapter 1

It was the screaming that woke me up. I had only been home for three days, and already my parents were fighting. Again. Sighing, I rolled over on my childhood bed and pulled the duvet up over my head, trying to block out the noise. I had moved out two years ago for university on the coast compared to my brother, who moved out last month to go live in Manchester to get a degree in Engineering. In the month that my parents had been alone, I was honestly surprised that they hadn't yet divorced. They had been threatening to for years.

"She's only home for another week, Jason! Why do we have to fight about this now when we haven't seen her for three months!"

I groaned and grabbed my pillow to hold over my head as well. Now that I knew they were talking about me, I felt my cheeks flush. That was the curse of my childhood home; that, even with all the doors closed, I could hear every word from the downstairs living room in my room. It was a double edged sword - sometimes, I really wanted to hear what the 'grown-ups' were discussing away from the 'children' but other times, especially when they were talking about me, I despised it, it was so embarrassing.

"Exactly! We haven't seen her in three months and before then it was almost a year since she'd seen us! She hasn't been home in ages and I want to know why?!"

Oh God, they were fighting about me!

I knew I hadn't been home since early in the summer, but I had a flat all the way down in Exeter, around two hours away from my childhood home in Bristol. I loved that flat and my crazy room mate. I also had a heavy course load and a part-time job to not only help pay for the flat but also start paying off my university loans. I had been lucky and since I turned sixteen I'd had a number of steady, fairly well-paying job - which I attributed my resume filled with recommendations from all the places I'd volunteered at over the years. I also had the back-up of my Granddad, who not only paid for my flat for the first year, but also gave me a steady contribution of money over the past year to help with the monthly rent and other bills. I had been very thankful to him.

But my mum hated me not coming back to see her more often and now that my brother had moved out, she was experiencing major empty nest syndrome.

"She's at university, Jason! She's doing a degree, she's got a job, she's got friends! She see's us in the summer and at Christmas and that's really all we can expect. She's 20 years old, for goodness' sake! We can't expect her to always come home." Mum's words got softer at the end and I almost felt like crying when she revealed what they were talking about.

"She's off to America for the next year, Rosa. Alex is up in Manchester and we won't be seeing him for months, but she's off to America in a week and then it's likely that we won't even hear from her for months!"

I heard a sob, obviously my mum and I resisted the urge to get up and go downstairs to comfort her, to tell her that even if I couldn't call I'd still make sure to email her every week. But I refrained, I wanted to hear what my dad was going to say. I did, however, roll out of bed and tiptoe across my bedroom floor to my still partially unpacked bag, being careful not to make the floor creak too much so that they didn't know I was awake.

"Oh, Rosa..." There was a bit of loud shuffling and she could imagine her dad getting up to comfort her mum.

Crouching down, she riffled through her dirty cloths she keeps forgetting to put in the washing machine until she picked up the first book she got to. Twilight.

She had first read the novel two years ago and the rest of the series soon after. Since then, she'd read the book a number of times, even though it wasn't her favourite book. That title belonged to the Harry Potter series.

Opening the book, she turned to the first chapter and read through the book, saying out the words in her head as she tried to block out what was being said downstairs. She didn't like hearing her mum cry and her mum and dad were having a private conversation and now that they weren't shouting, she was willing to block them out.

 _My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favourite shirt - sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka._

 _In the Olympic Peninsula of north west Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead._

I tossed the book onto the bed, knowing that I was still on the front page and before I could get too absorbed into the book went to go get my other bag - I'd only brought two up with me to my room, the rest of my things packed into one oversized suitcase waiting downstairs for when my parents took me to the airport next week. The bag I picked up was a soothing red coloured, leather satchel, big enough to hold my laptop, my tablet and a number of my favourite books. I was pretty sure that I had the other three Twilight saga books in there, separate from the first in the series for reasons even I was unsure of. Because of the amount the bag could carry, I jokingly called it my Mary Poppins' bag.

Setting it on my bed, I rifled through it, making sure that all of the books were in there. I found not only the desired books of the Twilight saga, but also the last two Harry Potter books and one of the Percy Jackson books, as well as my Apple Macbook and Nexus tablet alongside my wallet which held predominately cash. Smiling, I settled carefully onto my bed next to the bag and once again picked up Twilight.

It was as I was starting the second chapter that I smelt the distinct smell of bacon sneak underneath my bedroom door, and I quickly stuffed the book into my already full bag, spearing a thought to when it was going to break, before grabbing it and rushing to the door, in hopes that I could convince whoever was cooking to make me some.

Throwing open the door, I walked out into the hallway, excited to get some food. It took me a few moments to realise that something was wrong. My childhood home's upstairs hallway had always had cream coloured walls decorated with pictures of me and my brother as we grew up, along with a fading red carpet. My room was situated in the middle, my brother's childhood bedroom at one end of the hallway and my parent's bedroom at the other end.

This hallway was different. The floor was a polished wood and the walls were more whitewashed than cream. I felt my heart speed up. Where was I?

Tightening my hold on the strap of my bag, I looked around the hallway, sure that my eyes were wider than they'd ever been before. I stopped when I came upon a large square picture frame made up of numerous other shapes of different sizes. Studying the pictures, I saw most of them held pictures of a man with dirty blonde hair and grey eyes and throughout the pictures I could see how he aged over a period of what I guessed to be about 10 years. In a few of the pictures there was also an auburn haired woman with bright green eyes. However, in every single picture there was a little girl. The youngest picture showed what I supposed to be the girl as a young baby with both the man and the woman, progressing on to show a young toddler with a head of tight platinum blonde curls before showing a series of pictures up to what looked like a 15 year old girl with loose sandy blonde curls and bright blue eyes dressed in a variety of clothing. I couldn't help but think the girl looked familiar.

Hearing the scrape of a chair against wood, my head whipped around in the direction of the staircase. It took me a few seconds to realise I was unconsciously holding my breath and I released it in what I hoped was a quiet sigh. I came to a stop at the top of the stairs and saw through a partially open doorway a bathroom. Biting my lip, I pushed open the door enough for me to slip through, fervently hoping that it wouldn't creak. I released a quick breath in a quiet sigh as I was able to slip silently into the bathroom. I didn't dare close it.

I turned quickly towards the large mirror that was mounted over the fairly large sink. I could barely contain my scream.

At 20 years old, I was of average height at about 5'5, with darkening blonde hair that fell messily to just below my shoulders. My eyes had always been a strange mixture of blue and grey, often changing between the two colours. I'd always had a rather chubby face and had always had a fair bit of trouble keeping a healthy weight.

That wasn't who I saw staring me back in the mirror.

* * *

After a good five minutes spent breathing heavily trying not to scream, I gathered my courage and went back out the door, making sure not to touch it so that it didn't make a noise. I looked down the stairs, terrified of what I'd find down there. Biting my already abused lip once again, I gripped the hand rail tightly as I moved slowly down the stairs, trying the best I could not to make a noise. My efforts proved futile.

"Addie?"

I froze, one foot on the last step of the staircase and the other one hovering in the air. Turning my head slowly, me eyes lightened upon seeing a man. I guessed he was around 40, maybe around 6 feet tall. He had slowly greying blonde hair with grey eyes. He had the beginnings of a beard around his chin. He was wearing a pair of faded, dirty jeans and a long sleeved red shirt that had what looked like oil stains on them. He was the man from the pictures upstairs.

"You ready for breakfast?" He asked. I could hear an American accent and could feel my eyebrows crinkle in confusion. I don't know anyone from America.

All I could do was squeak. Luckily, he just laughed.

"Come on, its not an English breakfast like I'm sure your used to, but it is bacon and pancakes." His smile was full and slightly teasing and I could feel my own lips stretch into a hesitant smile of my own.

Taking a tentative step down I was solidly standing on the ground floor of the house. The man turned around and moved back through a large archway into what I assumed was the kitchen. I followed him slowly, my head swivelling around as fast as it could to take in the honestly rather extravagant house.

The archway, unlike what I originally believed, actually led to another hallway. The hallway was short, with polished white marble floors and clean white walls, decorated in a number of square framed paintings and photo's. A number of photo's showed the man with numerous different people, including the auburn haired woman from the upstairs photo and the blonde girl. The painting's looked old, showing numerous different landscapes and places. Soon, she walked through another archway on the left wall into the kitchen. It was a large, airy room with the walls to the right of the archway lined with counters, interspersed with different machines, including a dishwasher and an oven. Above the counters there was a large, rectangular window divided in two by a thin line of wood - it stretched nearly across the whole wall and showed through it what I assumed to be the front garden, with a large colourful tree to one side and a long driveway to the other. I could see a sleek silver car parked there. A large, double doored fridge was pushed up across the far wall with a fairly large rubbish bin situated a little across from it. In the middle of the room was a large, high, round table made of whitewashed wood with five white metal stools around it.

The table held a large platter of pancakes and a significantly smaller plate piled with bacon. There was a jug on the table and I guessed it held either syrup or juice. There were two plates set out on the table and whilst the man walked around to one of the stools, I took the other place. Watching him pile a surprisingly large amount of pancakes onto his plate and then layering bacon onto it, my nose crinkled as I watched him grab the jug and pour my assumption of syrup all over his food.

He picked up his knife and fork, obviously about to dig in, when he looked up at me, puzzled. Probably as to why I was not eating, I thought.

Swallowing, I grabbed two pancakes and cut them up on my plate before pouring a pile of syrup on my plate. I picked out two rashers of bacon, separating them from the pile of syrup. The man was still looking at me weirdly, but shook it off and quickly dug into his breakfast. I soon followed suit, although much more slowly and cleanly.

"So, Ads, what do you think of Forks so far? I mean, it has only been a night, but I really hope you enjoy it here with me." I sat there, frozen, as I listened to him ramble around his food. Forks? "I know you must miss your mother and I'm sorry that you had to move away from your friends and school, but, despite the circumstances, I really hope you enjoy it here with your old man."

All I could get out of my mouth was a squeak.

Forks?!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He had left soon after breakfast, claiming that he had work to do and that he'd be home around 6 and that he'd bring home dinner, asking what take-out I'd wanted. The only answer I had been able to give him was a nod when he suggested pizza. He also informed me that he was taking the day off tomorrow so that we could go to the local high school so that I could enroll and take a few placement tests.

I stayed at the table for what felt like hours, but according to the big clock hanging on the wall near the windows it was only 9:30 - 30 minutes since the man had left. Suddenly, I pushed away from the table, cringing at the horrible sound the chair scraping across the floor produced. Walking out the way the man had shown me, I near ran up the stairs. I stopped at the top of the stairs, where I saw my red bag through the open door to the bathroom. Breathing out slowly, I walked over and picked up the bag, before walking back out of the bathroom and down the hallway, stopping at the door that I was pretty sure I originally came out from. The door was a light brown wood, polished to perfection, but with pictures sellotaped to the door randomly and different stickers peeling off the door. It looked almost exactly like the door of her bedroom at her childhood home, only the photo's were different - they showed nearly the exact same thing, only with different people.

My eyes scrunched tightly as I opened the door, not sure if I wanted to see the room. Breathing deeply, I slowly opened my eyes to a squint, before opening my left eye fully. I only dared to look straight ahead as I opened my right eye fully as well. Directly in front of me was a set of floor to ceiling shelves - 12 overall - set into a little niche in the wall, all of them filled to the brim with books and a closer look shows that from the floor to a little over half way up the wall - an entire 7 shelves - the books were fiction books - Harry Potter, The Chronicles of Narnia series and the beginnings of the Artemis Fowl series. The last 5 shelves were filled with all sorts of books, though most of them seemed to be for research purposes. Unlike the fiction books, which were arranged neatly in rows in order of series, the research books were stuffed every which way into the shelves and I could see loads of notebook paper stuffed into the rest of the limited space available. Thinking back on what the man had said, that I'd only been here a night, I don't know how I'd managed to put all of the books like this in that amount of time.

Turning slowly, I looked to the other side of the room. I could feel my eyebrows climb up my forehead as I took in the rest of the room. Along the same wall as the shelves, there was a big chest of drawers. On the other side of the chest of drawers was another bookshelf, this one only having four shelves in it. The books in the bookcase were mostly fiction, although the bottom shelf was filled with notepads and drawing pads. Above the bookshelf was another two shelves, although these one's were filled with little trinkets and photo frames.

On the far wall there was a set of French doors taking up nearly half of the space. Gasping slightly, I took a minute to figure out how to open them and then flung them open wide, stepping out onto the small balcony beyond. The balcony itself was made of carefully panelled metal, painted a mute, light blue. The view from the balcony was of the surrounding forests, lovely willow trees lining the border between back garden and dense forest. The garden itself was fairly small, although seemed to wrap all around the house and go between the trees into the forest. Taking in a deep breath, a true smile came upon my face for the first time since I'd arriver here - wherever here was.

Taking up the rest of the wall, with enough space for a bit of room and a small table between them, a big, double bed took up the other half of the wall. The bed was huge, with mountains of pillows piled high against the wall. The pillows were encased in dark blue cases, with silver flower patterns pressed into the fabric. The duvet hung down over the side of the bed and seemed heavy. The duvet cover, too, was a dark blue, with silvery flowers trailing up the sides. At the end of the bed was a long wicker trunk, almost. Opening it, I found an army of stuffed toys and old, careworn dolls.

On the same wall as the length of the bed, the door I had come through stood open. On the back wall there was a medium sized wardrobe, partially set into the wall itself. The walls were all painted a light, soothing blue with a white trim. There were a few of what looked like school photo's hung up on the wall.

Taking a deep breath, I let out a small scream, knowing I was alone. Where was I?!

* * *

I had, too soon in my opinion, gotten up from the spacious floor where I had gotten myself through my mental breakdown and riffled through the mute white bedside table. I had soon after celebrate my victory. There was a diary.

The book was leather bound and held tightly together by worn-looking string. At first, I had thought it to be merely another book from the vast collection in the room, but a peek inside told me differently. It was signed _Adelaide L Paro_. Now, I didn't have a clue where the _Paro_ came from, but the rest of it was the same as my name. A quick flick through the book also told me that it wasn't complete, and that the last date was the 2nd December.

Deciding to start from the beginning, I settled in on the huge bed, hesitant at first before deciding that the bed was too comfortable not to honour it by sitting on it and settled my bag against my legs as I opened the diary and began to read.

 _Dear Diary,_

 _I turned nine today! Nana gave you to me as a present. I'm glad, your really pretty. Nana says that your made of Italian leather and that I need to be careful 'cause your old. You don't look that old, though. Hm.  
Anyway, we had the party at Papa's house in America. It's huge! He just got it and its in this really cold town that reminds me of home. Nothing like that place we went last year. Nana was there, and Grandma and Grandpa. Mum gave me loads of new books! Grandma gave me money again. I just need to sneak the chocolate past mum this time, she caught me last year. _

_Addie  
07/08/98_

 _..._

 _Dear Diary,_

 _I just landed in Italy. I can't wait to see Nana again. I haven't seen her since Christmas last year. Mum says she's been very sick, but all of her letter's say that she's fine, although Dad inherited his stubbornness from her, according to Mum. I haven't been to Italy since I was 10 and although I'm really looking forward to seeing Nana, I also can't wait to see the sites. Mum brought me a new camera to take pictures on. I can't wait!_

 _Lydia  
15/06/02_

 _..._

 _Dear Diary,_

 _Mum died last week. The doctors say that she had cancer, but that it was never treated because it wasn't found until too late, otherwise known as three months ago. Mum never told me. I have to stay in England for two weeks whilst they get in contact with Dad and sort out the funeral and the will and everything. I'm staying with Grandma and Grandpa until they ship me off to America. TO FORKS! I can't believe it! I haven't seen Dad in nearly three years and even then it was over Christmas at Nana's vacation house in France. And I didn't even see him properly. He still sends cards and gifts on my birthday and at Christmas but apparently he's been too busy to come over and see me._

 _Lydia  
2/12/04_

The last entry was covered in tear stains and I could feel my own eyes welling up in sympathy. Oh, the poor girl.

But it was useful. I had found out that this girl was name Adelaide - a favourite name of her Mum's - Lydia - after her Nana - Paro, which was her Dad's last name. Her birthday was on the 7th of August and she was 15 years old. She had grown up in England with her Mother, although was a frequent visitor of Italy, where her Nana, her Dad's Mother, lived. She spoke Italian fluently. I was glad I could as well.

The diary also gave me other details that, honestly, I felt a bit guilty reading. But I was also glad that this diary was in existence. I knew enough about this girl that I could get by as I found my way home. However, one problem I have possibly encountered is that, going by the diary, where the last entry date was December 2004 and going by what the man had said earlier, I had only arrived here the other day. Putting 2 and 2 together and getting 4 made me wish that the answer was 5. I was, quite possible, in the past and I had no clue how it happened.

* * *

The next morning, the man, Angelo Paro, my temporary father, I suppose, woke me up.

 _Honestly, the nerve of this man_ , I grumbled to myself in my head as I dressed sluggishly, preparing for a day of forms and placement tests. It was weird to think of the man, Angelo, as my father, which he was temporarily, I suppose. I felt almost guilty for it when I thought of my own father, hopefully alive and well back home. Wherever that was now.

I had spent the entire night agonising over this thought. How did I get here? I was only sitting in bed reading Twilight and I end up in what I think is the book! Although, there was no proof of that beyond the fact that I was in Forks, so maybe I just happened to be transported to America... I needed a computer, I had decided at around two o'clock this morning, so that I could check to see if there was any record of me or my family. I then had the problem of wondering what had happened to the girl who's body I was inhabiting. Was she alright? Had I done something to kick this off or had she? Was she somehow inhabiting my body? There was, of course, also the fact that I had no clue as to who anyone in this town is. That could cause problems.

I had resolved, sometime in the night, that I had to pretend to be this girl who I only knew through her own writings and at the same time try and find a way back to my own body. One thing that I had discovered in the night, after hours of trying to get comfortable, that despite my sudden teleportation and possible time travel I still had the full contents of my bag. My Apple Macbook hadn't come out until late 2009 and my Iphone 5c had only come out in 2013 and I therefore had no idea how I still had them. The thing that baffled me the most, however, was that I had all four Twilight books stuffed into my bag the same they had as I left my bedroom back home before I found myself here. These thoughts had invaded my mind all night and I had tossed and turned most of the night and I had only gotten to sleep maybe three hours ago.

Going down the stairs almost as slowly as I had the day before, I walked quietly into the kitchen, standing in the archway awkwardly as I watched Angelo scoff down a large bowl of cereal. I stood there for a few minutes until he looked up and jerked his head towards the cupboards lining the back of the room. I took it to mean that I should go get something to eat. I browsed the cupboards quietly, looking back at Angelo every few seconds, before deciding to grab an apple from the fruit bowl on the end counter. I stood where I was, slowly turning it in my hand. I didn't feel like eating.

It was a little over five minutes later that Angelo stood up, rinsing out his bowl at the sink before putting it and his spoon in the dishwasher. He smiled at me and gestured for me to follow him. Putting the majority of the apple that I'd been nibbling at in the bin as I passed it. I followed him back to the front door, watching as he opened an almost hidden door to the left of the front door. The small closet held one long gold bar strung across it, with maybe 8 coats hung off it. He took one of the rack - a long, black, water proof coat. Angelo then moved out of the way, although he left the door open and I took that to mean that I needed to pick out my own coat. Looking through them, I could tell which one's were this girls and I picked out a dark red coat with water proof coating that tied at the waist.

The front door was a polished, light brown wood and heavy to boot. I followed Angelo to his car - a long, silver sports car of some kind. I almost refused to touch it - I hadn't ever been in something so expensive.

Tentatively, I settled myself in the car, following Angelo's example of putting the seatbelt on. He glanced at me quickly, flashing me a quick smile before we pulled out of the driveway. He had been quiet this morning, not speaking to me beyond waking me up earlier. I didn't mind, the silence wasn't uncomfortable.

He went along whatever the American version of the motorway was called until we came across a spread of low, red brick buildings. It reminded me of my primary school. The buildings were all dark red brick and looked like a small collection of houses. The one thing identifying it as a school was the large sign declaring it 'Forks High School'. Angelo turned off at exactly the right moment and pulled into an empty space near a small, separate building close to what looked like the gym or canteen.

We exited the car quickly and I followed him - as he obviously knew what he was doing - through a large, brown wood door into a fairly large, office-reminiscent room. As I entered, there was a large, plotted green plant on either side of the door. Directly in front of me was a large, solid desk painted a soothing cream. On it was stacks of paperwork and a desktop computer whilst behind it stood an average sized woman with frizzy red hair. Her name tag declared her Ms. Cope. I remembered her from the Twilight books and almost smiled. Maybe my crazy theory was right. Behind and slightly to the right of her was another door with PRINCIPAL stamped across it in gold. To the left was yet another door and this one had NURSE stamped on it. At least I knew where to go in case of an accident.

Angelo cleared his throat quietly after a few moments of standing there in silence and the woman's head shot up so fast I think I heard her neck crack. Her eyes widened when she spotted us and her cheeks burned a dull pink when she saw Angelo and she patted down her frizzy hair as she smiled widely at us. I almost hyperventilated - it was the exact same description Bella gave in Twilight, I was sure of it.

"Hello there, Angelo. What can I do for you today?" She obviously knew my hopefully-temporary father as she subtly batted her thickly made up eyelashes at him. Angelo grinned back at her as he answered;

"I called in here the other day about my daughter coming to town and enrolling her here?" He gestured towards me and her light brown eyes easily slid across the room from him to me. I could see her eyes widen considerably as they slid up and down, almost as if she was sizing me up. It took maybe half a minute before she recovered and turned a bright red before she answered.

"Of course, Angelo. I remember the Principal saying something about a new student. Are you here for the placement tests, dearie?" She asked me at the end, still directing a small smile at me and Angelo. I nodded.

"Well, follow me and we'll see what the Principal has ready."

* * *

We left the school nearly to hours later. I had spent that time doing placement tests in all the subjects I wanted to take and I'm pretty sure that Angelo spent the two hours flirting with Ms. Cope. I found it to be very entertaining, especially the flush that overtook his face when I wriggled my eyebrows at him.

It was on the way to the grocery store, about 10 minutes away from the high school, that I thought about my new school. It was Wednesday. I was to get the results of the tests on Friday and would have my schedule officially put together that day. I would start school on Monday. I was already nervous, although looking forward to some of the lessons.

We made it to the Grocery store soon enough and Angelo parked haphazardly. I cringed internally at his reckless driving. I followed a few feet behind him as he entered the store and I looked around in amazement. Back home, the local store was a Tesco's and it wasn't all that impressive. This was a lot different. It wasn't overly big, but the ceilings were extremely high and as far as the eye could see - or, well, to the back of the store, there were rows and rows of large shelving units packed full of all sorts of things. There were cans, packets, fresh food, there was a bakery to the left of the store and I could see a few aisles full of toys and books. Angelo chuckled at my gaping mouth and started leading the way towards the first aisle. I blinked when I realised he had somehow acquired a trolley.

I followed him as he placed two fresh loaves of bread in the cart - one white, one seeded - along with a packet of rolls and, at my insistence, a packet of chocolate chip brioche. Down the next aisle, he picked up cans of all sorts and then pasta sauces and different types of pasta. He picked up crisps and biscuits. He also let me pick up a few bars of chocolate.

We were in there maybe an hour before we left. There was a surprise waiting for me as we walked through the doors.

Just entering as we were leaving, there was a woman. She was fairly tall, with caramel brown hair that flowed gently to her shoulders. She wore a pair of smart trousers and a navy blue blouse underneath a thick black raincoat. The exposed skin was extremely pale and as I looked at her face, I gulped as I saw the golden eyes set in her face. Those eyes widened as she caught me staring at her and widened even more as her nostrils flared as I walked past her.

Sure that I was flushing brightly, I hurried past her out the door to catch up with Angelo, not realising I had slowed down as I looked at her.

Smiling as I slid into the car, I withheld a squeal. I just saw Esme Cullen!


End file.
